


Sheer Heaven

by pyrrhic_victoly



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Britannia Angel, Kink Meme, M/M, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:32:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhic_victoly/pseuds/pyrrhic_victoly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England orgasms into Britannia Angel.  For serious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sheer Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have my first (and only) foray into the kink meme.
> 
>  
> 
> "This anon wants to see some good old fashioned USxUK sexing...with a twist! UK is in such utter ecstacy that in the middle of his orgasm, he INVOLUNTARILY CHANGES INTO BRITTANIA ANGEL! Which of course leads to FTW?awkwardness, and a few more goes at the naughty... And pleaaase, MAKE IT SEXY!DIRTY!DELICIOUS! Alfred has to take his angel to heaven and back, after all... reCaptcha agrees! : Sheer Hevn"
> 
>  
> 
> *sobs* I'm a fail!anon who sucks at writing smut. I never did get around to writing the "few more goes at the naughty" part, and now I've totally lost the link to the kink meme post...

"Oh, fucking God!"

"Why yes I am the heroic God of Fucking!"

"Shut... up... you egotistical wanker!"

"My fingers are in your ass, so..." America said with a way-too-happy grin, "I wouldn't say that's the sign of someone who's about to jerk off." England could not wrap his mind around how he could maintain that childish enthusiasm while in such a position, but there he was, bright blue eyes peering excitedly over those glasses, chattering away while his fingers intimately massaged areas that should not be mentioned in polite company.

"Well, you bloody well will be if we don't move this to the bed soon and-- nngah!" The fingers crooked just right and England closed his eyes, pushing his lower body toward America while his arms steadied against the wall. But just before he was about to take matters into his own hands (so to speak) and fuck himself on those teasing fingers, they were pulled out, which resulted in a few creative curses and a surprised yelp (a Very Subdued and Gentlemanly Yelp) as America suddenly spun England around, lifted him up, and pressed closer until their chests were flush against each other.

Legs hitched up around America's waist, arms bracing himself against the wall, England panted and bit his lip to keep back a moan as he felt the hastily slicked cock sink into him. America leaned forward and rested his head by the crook of England's neck. The soft panting and barely audible groans coupled with the feel of hot breath on his skin sent shivers down England's spine.

Then came the kisses and the nips along the column of his neck, starting from from the juncture at the shoulder and up to his pulse - sucking on the pulse, oh fuck! - and up further, ghosting along the shell of his ear and to his jawline. England pulled his left hand away from the wall to grab the back of America's neck and yank him into an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue immediately darting in for a duel.

It was ironic, he thought, that they'd managed to make it back to his house after the world meeting (shedding clothes up the stairs and across the hallway) and even held out until they'd gotten into his bedroom (stumbling around naked, making out at the door, his hands groping for the doorknob as the younger man bent down to kiss and nibble at his chest), only to lose control at the last second and end up fucking against the wall with his bed not five feet away from them.

They continued the kiss as America started to move, first in smooth, long strokes, and then in faster and faster thrusts. And England was (not) moaning into the other man's mouth. NOT. He was most definitely not making half of those embarrassingly needy muffled sounds filling the air right now.

Mouths pulling apart, mutual screams, the neighbors might call the police. England pulled himself closer to America with one arm. With the other, he reached down to grab his own leaking cock, pressed between their sliding bodies. England let out a pleasurable hiss, and as he gripped himself, he brought his lips to one smooth, flawless shoulder and sucked hard enough on the skin to leave an angry red mark.

...But then he couldn't think anymore because there were hands grasping his buttocks and pulling him farther down until he could feel the entire length of his lover inside him. All of it. Inside. Then out, and they're bucking together. Desperate, seeking, savage, can't-get-enough-of-this-man grinding together.

The sullen heat that had been building up between them finally exploded.

"Aaah--! Aaaaaahhh!"

Suddenly, a blast of sparkles cascaded in front of his eyes.

England had heard of the blinding white flashes that supposedly accompanied a Really Good Orgasm, but he'd never experienced one before. The sensation of wings unfurling behind his back was a bit strange, too. And he'd certainly never expected the sparkles still be there when he came down from his shuddering high and opened his eyes to--

"Whoa! What the--! Britannia Angel?!"

"Huh?" Oh, yes, Arthur, very intelligent reply, he snarked to himself. His mind was still addled, so it took a little longer than usual for the Sinking Dread to catch up to him. Gulping, England looked down to see that his legs, still wrapped around his lover's waist, were swathed in white.

"That's so hilarious! Ahahaha! The way you transformed was just like one of those magical girl shows that Japan's been making me watch with him!"

At that, he snapped out of the daze. "Put me down! Put me down right this instant!" He shoved and tried to squirm off.

"All right, all right!"

England bit his lip so he wouldn't gasp at the sensation of America's cock slipping out of him. As he struggled out of the hold, he turned his head to hide the blush that had crept up into his face at that last sensual caress.

America was staring at him. Strangely silent, now. Just. Staring.

"What?!" he snapped.

The idiot finally managed to pick up his jaw. It dropped again. Then up, then down. America gaped like a fish for a while before he found the words. As he was about to speak, England prepared a multitude of snappy comebacks for the inevitable insults, but then...

"Wow, England. Has anyone ever told you how hot you are as an angel?" That...was unexpected, England thought. He had no idea that, in America's eyes, there was a temptingly debauched angel leaning against the wall, all pristine white toga and shimmering halo. The very picture of holy beauty, but for the kiss marks littered across his neck, collarbones, chest, and those places artfully concealed by the draped fabric. America gulped at the image. "I'm sure we can go for another round..."

"There is such a thing as a 'refractory period', I'll have you know. On top of that, we're not having sex while I'm dressed up as an angel! Britannia Angel is not to be defiled by your boorish hands. Just... let me catch my breath and I'll change back." England - Britannia Angel - waved America away as he slumped back against the wall, slowly and unsteadily regaining control of his wobbly legs while generally trying his very best to ignore the warmth trailing down his thighs, likely staining his sparkling white toga.

Ignore! Ignore! There was nothing defiling his toga - not America's sex-crazed hands nor his... That. Not that, either. Definitely not.

Ah, who was he kidding? It was stringently impossible to ignore what was arguably the most embarrassing moment of his life since the Norman conquest. (Damn that French bastard! The 11th century was Not Fun.)

America, as always, easily ignored the things he didn't want to hear. "I think this time you should ride me."

England nearly choked. "Are you deaf? I said no angel sex, you insufferable git!"

"Chillax! You're returning to the prude you were in the Victorian-era!"

"I'm not taking that from the prude who instigated abstinence-only sex education in a third of his schools."

"Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure we had this conversation back in the late 1800s, and I said, 'Save a horse, ride a cowboy!' So, how about it?"

"You are deaf, aren't you? You've finally managed to remove the foot in your mouth by shoving it in your ear."

"Well, my ears are ringing a little bit, but I think that's because you screamed so loudly--"

"Excuse me?!"

"--but otherwise I'm totally fine! Yup, this hero is in top working condition! Ahahaha!"

"Ugh, save it. I'm going to-- I'm going to rest for a bit." He padded his way to the bed and immediately sank down into the covers. America followed suit, pulling England close and just holding him, trailing light kisses across his face.


End file.
